The voice
by stolen94
Summary: Sam battles it out once more. Promising one-shot.


**Because I, too, had a voice I heard. But it didn't win. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to iCarly. I own, simply, the story.**

She slid down her bathroom wall, wrapping her arms clad in a dark blue long-sleeved sweater around her scarred knees. Burying her curly blonde-haired head into the hole formed by her arms, she sniffled, praying the occupants of the apartment opposite hers wouldn't suspect anything.

Her brown eyes blurred with tears as she pressed against her covered wrists, remembering her actions the night before when the pressure inside her broke for a moment and she needed to see red, _physically_.

Her old and tattered Capri's didn't shield her legs or butt from the cold tiles and she tore them off, wanting to feel the cold, hard truth of the dirty floor beneath her. Her black plain t-shirt underneath her sweater covered her purple underwear. In despair, she slammed her fists on the floor.

Why couldn't she get this hungry, empty feeling out of her? It clawed, _tore_ at her insides, pleading to be let out, but she didn't know how to. This madness was taking its toll on her sanity and she felt herself succumbing to craziness.

'_Just take that shiny blade.'_ That little girl sang in her head.

"NO!" she screamed.

'Take it…slide it across your milky skin, watch the scarlet liquid burst out. So _beautiful_. So _relaxing_.' It teased.

She gripped her sides, crossing her arms.

"No, no, no!" She whispered fiercely.

'Just do it. It's a battle you're losing, anyways. You know you are. Come on. Why are you fighting it?' It asked.

"I don't want to." She audibly answered herself.

'But you do. So BADLY. Nobody wants you. Why put up a fight? No one will come and save you. NO ONE.' It raged.

She laid her cheek against the cool tiles. "No, no, no. People care. My friends care. They love me. They do. I know they do." She tried to convince herself.

'Oh yeah? They ask you if you're alright but they never stay long enough to hear your answer. Your REAL answer. You're not okay, you're not fine. Face it. You're done. Tonight will be your last night in this world. _I_ will make sure of it. _I will finally be let out_.' It spat.

She sat up abruptly. "No! You will not win. NO." She sniffled and felt for her phone in the mess around her.

She dialed the number familiarly yet distant in her mind, hidden along with all her happy memories, replaced with anger, resentment, depression, sadness, frustration….the list could go on…

Tears leaked down her cheeks, inky with the dripping eyeliner.

"Y-yeah?" The groggy voice answered. "F-freddie?" She asked, hesitantly.

"Sam? Are you okay?" His voice all of a sudden alert, surprised her.

"No, I'm not." She whispered, choking back a sob. "I'll be right there. Wait for me Sam." He ordered before hanging up. The cell fell from her hands.

The shiny metal taunted her from across the floor. Despite the slight strength she had, one more tempt would push her over the edge and she'd dash for it. SHE knew it and she quickly took the chance to tear her last shred of hope.

'You're _nothing_.'

Those words. Those hateful words. Enough to extinguish every solid edge she held onto. Now she fell, fell fast into the darkness that was her mind. 'She' held it now.

That glinty object. It was satisfying her hunger, slowly as she allowed the warm blood out into the world.

Her legs and thighs hurt but it felt so…**good**. She smiled bitterly as she ran her fingers down her legs. The door burst suddenly, ripping her attention like a bullhorn being sounded.

"Sam!" He cried, taking her in his arms. She let go now, falling like a deflated balloon against him. The tears damped his shoulder and chest but he didn't care. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She repeated, chastising herself for her weakness.

"It's okay. I'm here now. I'm here." He replied. He rocked her back and forth. She gently pulled back to wipe her face. She heard his quick intake of breath when he probably caught sight of the blood.

"'She's' out, out. But not really. I have her in here." She pointed to her temple. "I can't get rid of her, Freddie. She's still in me. I won't get her out completely until I finish the job." She explained, seeing his confusion. She slumped weakly against the wall that they were leaning on.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Sam. I'm going to call 911, okay? Stay calm. I'll call Carly and Spencer, too. Just stay with me." He spoke, eyeing the silver object near her. She nodded and he kicked the razor blade out of reach.

The paramedics arrived 15 minutes later, in which they stayed silent, and they laid her on the mat.

"Don't leave me." She pleads, and he rode with her to the hospital, one hand holding hers.

She sat now, cleanly bandaged, staring at the bleak white wall to her left.

'Am I okay?' She asked herself. Nobody answered back. She slid herself down and cushioned her head better to relieve the aching pain in her temples. She noticed the entrance of three people. They were somber and quiet.

"Hey." Her best friend said. She shuffled her hands in greeting.

"How're you doing?" Spencer asked. She met their eyes briefly.

"I've been better." She muttered. Somebody touched her and she flinched and the contact immediately vanished. She looked at her hands. "I'm confused, okay? So please don't try to make me feel better. I can't take it." She croaked. They nodded.

"You scared me, you know." Freddie spoke after a while of silence. She stared at him. "I never want to see you like that again, Sam. Never." He whispered, his eyes glistening.

She swallowed through the hard lump in her throat. She nodded.

"I can't promise you anything, but I'll try." She mumbles, wiping her eyes.


End file.
